The Potty Journal

Noah moved the TV in my room today, to hook a cable up. He found a small silver key, taped to the back. When he asked me what it is for, I couldn't recall. It looked like a fuzzy handcuff key, a suitcase key, no wait....a diary key. Then it hit me. The Potty Journal.

Before blogging was a Big thing, I would write my innermost thoughts in a brown journal. Then I would hide it in the cabinet above the toilet. I never felt the need to lock it up.
After several weeks of doing so, my husband seemed to know what was going on on in my life. I didn't think anything of it. I thought wow, how intuitive.

After coming out of the bathroom, he seemed to know what was bothering me, he would say, "I know how you feel about this, or that and you're wrong to feel that way." SAY WHAT?

There was times, I could hear him laughing in the bathroom, still no clue.
Then one day he was taking a call in the bathroom. He comes out with a piece of paper and put it on his bedside table. I looked down and realized,  " HEY, that's my journal paper!" He tore a page off and wrote on it.

So for several months my journal became, potty reading material. Did I confront him, you ask. No, I began to write down things for my own benefit.

1. If Rick would just give me a nice back rub tonight, I'd do this!

2. Rick acts like a complete manchild if he would just do this and that...I wouldn't be so crabby.

3. I'd be so grateful if Rick would ____!

For a few months I got all my needs met, until he admitted to using it, for potty reading. It was good while it lasted.